"Miss Hill," mused Elinor, gazing at the caricature. "That's not a bad drawing. I remember Miss Hill never had any use for me. Small wonder. She was an honest-to-God teacher. I think she wanted us to be good.... Wonder how she got along with the kids that came after us." "I saw Amanda Hill the other day," spoke up Flossie. "She looked worn out. She was nice to me. I'll bet my shirt she'd like to have us back, bad as we were.... These kids of to-day! My Gawd! they're the limit. They paralyze _me_. I thought I was pretty fast. But compared to these youngsters I'm tied to a post. My kid sister Joyce--Rose Clymer--Bessy Bell!... Some kids, believe me. And take it from me, girls, these dimple-kneed chickens are vamping the older boys." "They're all stuck on Bessy," said Helen. Margaret squealed in delight. "Girls, look here. Valentines! Did you ever?... Look at them.... And what's this?... 'Wonders of Nature--composition by Margaret Maynard.' Heavens! Did I write that? And what's this sear and yellow document?" A slivery peal of laughter burst from Margaret. "Dal, here's one of your masterpieces, composed when you were thirteen, and mooney over Daren Lane." "I? Never! I didn't write it," denied Dorothy, with color in her dark cheeks. "Yes you did. It's signed--'Yours forever Dot Dalrymple.' ... Besides I remember now Daren gave it to me. Said he wanted to prove he could have other girls if he couldn't have me." "How chivalrous!" exclaimed Dorothy, joining in the laugh. "Ah! here's what I've been hunting," declared Margaret, waving aloft a small picture. "It's a photograph of Holt, taken five years ago. Only the other evening he swore I hadn't kept it--dared me to produce it. He'll want it now--for some other girl. But nix, it's mine.... Dal, isn't he a handsome boy here?" With sisterly impartiality Dorothy declared she could not in the wildest flight of her imagination see her brother as handsome. "Holt used to be good-looking," said she. "But he outgrew it. That South Carolina training camp and the flu changed his looks as well as his disposition." "Holt _is_ changed," mused Margaret, gazing down at the picture, and the glow faded from her face. "Dare Lane is handsome, even if he is a wreck," said Elinor, with sudden enthusiasm. "Friday night when he beat it from Fanchon's party he sure looked splendid." Elinor was a staunch admirer of Lane's and she was the inveterate torment of her girl friends. She gave Helen a sly glance. Helen's green eyes narrowed and gleamed. "Yes, Dare's handsomer than ever," she said. "And to give the devil his due he's _finer_ than ever. Too damn fine for this crowd!... But what's the use--" she broke off. "Yes, poor Dare Lane!" sighed Elinor. "Dare deserves much from all of us, not to mention _you_. He has made me think. Thank Heaven, I found I hadn't forgotten how." "El, no one would notice it," returned Helen, sarcastically. "It's easy to see where you get off," retorted Elinor.